Flaping hands languish the stealth to dodge the formations of chaos, angered, trapped in the maze of time they patiently wait
hoping to reach the gate that their fate can amputate, rephrase and grace the tangling mess of desicions they attached to their death date.
Troubles impossible to annihilate follow my shadow around reminiscing me of the blood clots stuck in my past that trap my breath
- young and frail dumb can's of expired hope leaking off sadness, me and my generation - diseasing me with fruitless desire to severe my dreams from reality's realm.
Espousing the wave's pattern of moving along, I'm just a fool of the wind,
taking orders from higher powers deaf to response to my queries about life but loud enough to shut me down.
Flightless feather detached from my roots, I roam the sky trying to find a corner I can fit in but won't.
Windy clouds uncover my unmapped direction capturing the notion of 'misleaded youth' in the raw streams of monsoons fostering my existence for
as long as the storm carries...
How can you carry life in your shoulders when you're flipped upside down and gravity only draggs you further away from your goals?